Well I know this happy beauty,
Soon thine envied bride will shine;

But will she by anxious duty
Prove a passion warm as mine?
If to rule be her ambition,
And her own desires pursue,
Thou'lt recal my fond submission,
And regret thy POOR HINDOO.

Born herself to rank and splendour,
Will she deign to wait on thee,
And those soft attentions render,

Thou so oft has praised in me?
Yet, why doubt her care to please thee?
Thou must every heart subdue;

I am sure each maid that sees thee

Loves thee like thy POOR HINDOO.

No, ah! no!-though from thee parted,
Other maids will peace obtain ;
But thy Lola, broken-hearted,
Ne'er, oh! ne'er, will smile again.
O how fast from thee they tear me !
Faster still shall death pursue :
But 'tis well-death will endear me,
And thou'lt mourn thy POOR HINDOO,

XX.

SONG TO LOVE.

Sweet was yon note to fancy's ear,
That died upon the gale,

Yet sweeter far, in grove remote,
To breathe the am'rous tale.

The maid, in blushes, owns the truth She labours to conceal,

The panting breast, the averted eye-What more can she reveal

Then spare, fond youth, in pity spare, Nor urge your suit again,

Why need her lips that word declare, Which looks have made so plain.

XXI.

JOHN O' BADENYON.

When first I came to be a man

Of twenty years or so,

I thought myself a handsome youth,
And fain the world would know;
In best attire I stepp'd abroad,
With spirits brisk and gay,

And here and there and every where
Was like a morn in May;

No care I had nor fear of want,
But rambled up and down,
And for a beau I might have pass'd

In country or in town;

I still was pleased where'er I went,
And when I was alone,

I tun'd my pipe and pleas'd mysel'
Wi' John o' Badenyon.

Now in the days of youthful prime
A mistress I must find,

For love, I heard, gave one an air,
And even improv'd the mind.
On Phillis fair, above the rest,

Kind fortune fix'd my eyes,

Her piercing beauty struck my heart,
And she became my choice;

To Cupid now, with hearty prayer,
I offered many a vow,

And danc'd and sang, and sigh'd and swore,

As other lovers do;

But when at last I breath'd my flame,

I found her cold as stone;

I left the girl, and tun'd my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.

When love had thus my heart beguil'd
With foolish hopes and vain,
To friendship's port I steer'd my course,
And laugh'd at lover's pain;
A friend I got, by lucky chance,
'Twas something like divine,
An honest friend's a precious gift,
And such a gift was mine;

And

now, whatever might betide, A happy man was I,

In any strait I knew to whom

I freely might apply.

A strait soon came-my friend I try'd;
He heard, and spurn'd my moan;
I hied me home, and tun'd my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.

Methought I should be wiser next,
And would a patriot turn,

Began to doat on Johnny Wilkes,
And cry up parson Horne;
Their manly spirit I admir'd,

And prais'd their noble zeal,

Who had, with flaming tongue and pen,
Maintain❜d the public weal;

But ere a month or two had past,
I found myself betray'd,
'Twas self and party after all,

For all the stir they made.

At last I saw the factious knaves
Insult the very throne,

I curs'd them a', and tun'd my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.

What next to do, I mus'd awhile,
Still hoping to succeed,

I pitch'd on books for company,
And gravely tried to read:

I bought and borrow'd every where,

And studied night and day,

Nor miss'd what dean or doctor wrote

That happen'd in my way. Philosophy I now esteem'd The ornament of youth,

And carefully, through many a page,

I hunted after truth.

A thousand various schemes I tried,
And yet was pleas'd with none,
I threw them by, and tun'd my pipe
To John o' Badenyon,